Rain
by yeah-well-hey
Summary: While in Tokyo with the other Heavenly Kings, Nephrite sees Makoto in a café, and strikes up a conversation. Will their respective memories of each other resurface?
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This story follows the characterizations and general plot of Awakening. However, it stands alone and is not meant to be part of the story, but is simply an extra, alternate-plot scene I felt like writing. It happens while the Heavenly Kings are in Tokyo, searching for Endymion.**

* * *

The drumming rain reminds him of home.

Water throbs and pounds against the taut fabric of his umbrella, and for a moment he closes his eyes and thinks of a drum circle. He sees himself holding a drumstick, tapping the thin leather skin, faster and faster, as the men around him raise their voices and begin to chant.

_It's been so long._

By habit, Menewa checks the puddles for water spirits. Tie-snakes are treacherous creatures. He'd rather not step in the wrong puddle; it could be deeper than it seems. Appearances can be deceiving, or so his grandfather used to say, when he'd fill his grandson's head with strange folklore.

He chuckles and walks on, until he finds a café. He doesn't know what it's called, because the Japanese characters on the door won't reveal their secrets to him. No matter. He closes his umbrella and gives it a solid shake, then he grabs the door handle and steps inside.

Now he takes in the smell of burnt coffee beans, and glances up at the menu above the counter. He still can't read much of it, so he hangs his umbrella and his coat, then places his hands on his narrow waist and gives an amused sigh. As he waits in line to be served, he takes a look around him. A more attentive glance than the quick one he gave when he arrived.

Impossible to tell if the theme of the decor is Zen or Victorian. A framed black cameo silhouette hangs on the wall that faces the entrance, and underneath, there's a purple baroque table with a white buddha sitting right in the middle of it. The tables and chairs are all very modern, but the porcelain plates and tea cups are ornate and covered in flowers.

Menewa examines everything and eventually notices a girl, sitting alone at a table. She's got light brown hair, wavy, and she's wearing a school uniform with a beige skirt.

More importantly, she's crying.

He can tell that she means to conceal her tears. She wipes them rapidly, tries to hold them back, to remain as quiet as she can. But her fingers are trembling.

Someone suddenly asks a question Menewa has no chance of understanding.  
With a start, he turns around and sees that the clerk is waiting for him to order. She's got a lavender apron, and a lovely figure.  
"I'm sorry, I don't speak Japanese."  
"What will you have?" she kindly replies, and he feels relieved.  
"I'd like a mocha, if that's possible."  
"Sure."  
He eyes a pastry behind the glass counter.  
"Oh, and… Is that thing any good? What is it?"  
"That's a taro bun. Very delicious."  
"I'll take two."  
Then a sandwich stands out to him.  
"And is that a tuna sandwich?" he inquires.  
"Yes."  
"I'll have that, too. No, wait —"  
He points at another sandwich.  
"Is that, like, a grilled cheese?"  
"It's… a cheese sandwich. Do you want that instead?"  
"Nah. I'll have both."  
But there's some really colourful rice cakes, too.  
"Are those mochi?" he asks the clerk.  
"Yes."  
"I'll have three of 'em."  
The clerk covers her mouth with her hand and giggles, but is too shy to comment on her client's choices. Menewa steals a glance from her, and purposefully makes her blush. He grins and pushes his long hair back behind his shoulder.  
"Thank you, darling."

As the girl in the lavender apron prepares his coffee and puts everything on a tray, Menewa can't help but look at the brunette again. He catches her using her handkerchief, and it dampens his spirits to see that she's still crying.  
So he pays and grabs his tray when it's ready, and heads straight for her table.

The girl doesn't even notice him, standing there before her. She's lost in her thoughts.  
"Mind if I sit here?" Menewa asks, and she momentarily glances up, but without really looking.  
She nods indifferently, not bothered, but not quite sure why a total stranger wants to sit at her table.  
"Thanks," he says as he puts his tray down and turns his cup around, to bring the handle on the right side.  
She stares blankly at her own cup, which she hasn't even touched.  
Menewa leans forward, hands resting on his thighs.  
"Look up at me for a second?"  
Intrigued, she complies. He gives her a warm smile, and says nothing. She raises an eyebrow.  
"What… What is it?" she inquires.  
He has finally come into focus. The handsome man sitting opposite to her. His dense mane, dark eyebrows and vivid eyes. She finds herself admiring his face, its unusual features she can't quite place.  
"You seemed in need of a smile," he explains. "So I'm offering you mine, even though it would be better if you had your own."  
This remark unexpectedly makes her smile.  
"Ah, you _do_ have one," he says. "And it's a lot prettier than mine. I'm glad you found it again."

Blushing slightly, she lowers her eyes and notices Menewa's tray.  
"That's a lot of food you've got there," she remarks.  
"Just felt like having a little snack. Maybe I went a bit overboard with the mochi."  
"Are you really going to eat all that?"  
He waves his hand dismissively.  
"It's no problem. I'm a big eater. Plus, I like to try everything, especially when I'm visiting a new place. I want to get the full 'culinary' experience."  
"Where are you from?"  
"New York City."  
Her face lights up.  
"New York?"  
"It's pretty cool. Though Tokyo's not bad either. From what I've seen so far, it's very modern."  
"Are you an exchange student?"  
"Me? No. I'm just here with some friends of mine. We're, uh, looking for someone. An old friend."  
"Oh?"  
"It's a rather complicated story," he quickly says, wondering what compelled him to be so open with her. He can almost picture Arad's disapproving glare at him going around telling people about their plans.  
But Arad's not there. Thank goodness for that.  
"Where are your friends?"  
"They're back at the hotel. I asked them if they wanted to go for some coffee, but none of them felt like going out. Because of the rain. But I don't mind it."  
"Neither do I."  
Menewa gives her another smile. Then he takes a sip of his mocha and unwraps his tuna sandwich.  
"So tell me, were these mochi worth getting?" he asks. "Does this place make 'em well?"  
"Well enough. Though I like to put more sesame seeds on them."  
"You make mochi?"  
"Amongst other things. I like to bake and cook for myself, my friends… I actually spend a lot of time making food, even though it's just a hobby."  
"That's really amazing. I wish I had your skills. I'm not a bad cook, but I'm rather limited. Also, I don't have any talent. Cooking is a bit of an art, I think. You gotta have a feeling for it. Without my measuring cups, I'm lost. I follow recipes like they're chemistry lab instructions. I do know how to make a couple of pretty badass Creek dishes, though."  
"Creek?"  
"That's a Native American nation. Creek, also known as Muskogee. I'm half Creek, half Irish-American."  
"I've never met a Native American before."  
"Hope I make 'em proud, representing my people in Japan."  
He takes a first bite out of his sandwich, which he devours within seconds. Then he moves on to the other one.  
"I know I said I'm from New York, and that _is_ where I live right now, but I'm actually from Oklahoma. Didn't sound too impressive, though, so I saved that for later. Are you from Tokyo?"  
"Yes, I am."  
"I'm really glad you speak English. I kind of went out there on a limb, asking you to sit at your table."  
"It was unusual, but very sweet of you."

He stares into her eyes and for a split-second, he feels as though he's stared into them before. They are of a specific kind of green, one he can't refer to by any other word than the Creek word _lanē_.

"Do you want a pastry or something?" he asks her, trying to shake off the odd sentiment. All the memory-hunting he's been doing with the other Heavenly Kings is beginning to get to his head.  
"No thanks."  
"Go on. Have one."  
"All right," she replies, and takes a taro bun. "Thanks."  
"You're welcome."  
"What's your name?" he inquires, trying not to sound like he's flirting. He genuinely wants to know who she is.  
_Whose eyes are these?_  
"I'm Makoto Kino. Nice to meet you," she replies. "And you are?"  
"Menewa Brennan."  
"Menewa?"  
"It means 'great warrior'."  
"And are you? A great warrior, I mean?"  
"I can handle myself in a fight."  
"I know martial arts. I think I could easily take you on."  
"I don't doubt it. Martial arts are awesome. If I learned, I could give you a run for your money."  
She nods and gets started on her taro bun.  
"The stone around your neck is very nice," she says at some point.  
He looks down at it and half-expects to see it glowing. But it's not. Makoto admires it, or rather, admires the way it rests against his skin, near the opening of his casual plaid shirt.  
"What is it?" she asks, forcing herself to stop staring at it. At him.  
"A Nephrite. Let me return the compliment and tell you that I like your rose earrings."  
She touches her left earring with her index finger.  
_If only Senpai had told her that._  
"Thank you."  
"Did your boyfriend give them to you?"  
"No," she blushes.  
There is an awkward pause. Menewa drinks some coffee and finishes his sandwich, then picks up the taro bun while Makoto finishes hers.

"Makoto?" he says at last.  
She meets his gaze.  
"Why were you crying, earlier?"  
He doesn't excuse himself for asking her such a personal question and instead just waits for an answer.  
"I… I was crying because the guy I'm in love with, is in love with someone else."  
Again, that blank stare. Menewa sits still, lets her continue.  
"I really love him," she continues. "And I thought he loved me, too, but I was wrong."  
After a moment of reflection, he speaks.  
"He wasn't the man for you," he declares with such certainty, that Makoto almost believes him.  
"How would you know that?"  
"Simple," Menewa answers. "I won't say that the man you're supposed to be with will never make you cry. People say that, but I don't think it's true. Love is intense, and often means pain. But I'd say that your soul mate can never be happy and content while you are crying. Your soul mate will always cry with you. Suffer with you. If he breaks your heart, he will break his own heart as well. Because soul mates are connected, tied together as by an invisible string."  
She seems troubled, surprised.  
"You really believe in soul mates?"  
"Absolutely."  
"I don't know many guys who'd say that."  
"Yeah. I get teased about it by my friends. They think I'm overly romantic."  
"Really?"  
"But I have a hard time understanding how people can so easily deny the existence of soul mates. I don't think everyone has one, but… Just consider how so many things in this world come in two. We've got two hands, two legs, two eyes. Words have antonyms. Concepts have opposites. For love, there is hate. For happiness, there is sorrow. There is day, and there is night. There is the Earth, and the Moon. The sky, and the land. Life, and death. If so many things come in two, then why shouldn't we?"  
Makoto searches his eyes, finds sincerity in them.  
_He really means it._  
"I feel the same way," she declares.  
"Then I guess we're both overly romantic, aren't we?" he laughs.  
She places her hand on the edge of the table.  
"I'm changing schools, you know," she suddenly reveals. "Paperwork's already done. I just can't stand being there, seeing him with someone else. It just hurts too much."  
"I understand."  
A hopeful glance.  
"You do? You don't think I'm overreacting? That I'm being silly?"  
"I would do the same thing as you. I don't think I could stand it, either. Not if I was in love with someone."  
"There's another reason I'm leaving, though."  
"And what is that?"  
"I just feel like there's somewhere else I need to be."  
_Another life you are meant to live._  
Menewa sits back in his chair.  
"Funny you should say that. I moved to New York partly for that reason. If my family'd had their way, I'd still be down in Oklahoma. You know, having a bunch of kids and passing on the tradition. They're all happy for me, of course, all proud of the fact I'm studying Astrophysics, but at the end of the day, they'd rather just have me back home. Whenever I visit, they try to pair me up with someone. Not that I'd mind having a family and settling down, but… Well, I always felt like there was something I needed to do, above everything else. And then there's this trip…"  
He is about to continue, when a Def Leppard song emerges from his pocket. His phone is ringing at an inopportune moment, as always.  
"Oh, it's one of my friends I came here with… Let me get that."  
Putting his phone to his ear, he tilts away slightly, to look out the window.  
"Hey Arad. Uh, yeah, yeah, sure."  
He checks his watch.  
"I'm at a coffee shop right now. Right. Okay, well, I'll be there in a few."  
After he hangs up, he gives Makoto an apologetic smile.  
"Sorry about that. I'd better get going. The others need me, we've got things to do."  
"I should get home as well. Didn't realize it was so late. What about your mochi, though? You haven't even started on them yet."  
"I'll have that nice girl at the counter wrap them up for me. I'll donate them to those loser friends of mine who were too scared to go out in the rain."  
Makoto nods, and they leave the table.

When they retrieve their umbrellas and coats, Menewa notices that Makoto's pink umbrella is damaged. The metal rod seems crooked, and the cloth's not on quite right.  
"Gust of wind tore it apart?" he asks her, pointing at the disaster of an umbrella.  
"Yes," she sighs.  
Outside, the rain hasn't stopped. As though to confirm that the sun's not about to show, thunder rumbles and a flash of light momentarily illuminates the street.  
"How are you going to get home without a proper umbrella?"  
"I'll just put my schoolbag over my head," she says, shrugging. "It's alright."  
"No, it's not. I'm not going to let you walk in the rain while I get back to the hotel all cozy and dry."  
He opens the door and ushers her outside. Before she can say anything, he opens his umbrella and holds it above her.  
_How tall he is._  
She is not used to having people towering over her like this.  
"You really don't have to."  
"I insist. I don't want to leave a bad impression. My people are counting on me."  
He smirks.  
"What about your friends? Aren't they waiting for you?" she asks.  
"They can wait a little while longer. I like to be expected. Where shall I take you?"  
"Well, I need to get to the nearest subway station. From my station on it's only a matter of seconds to get to my building."  
"Alright, then. But you've got to guide me, because I have no idea where I am."  
"So you chose this café on a whim?"  
"Pretty much."  
"It's my favourite place. A bit far, but I love coming here."  
"Yeah, it's nice," he lies, still baffled by the schizophrenic decor.

They walk through the rain and Menewa receives most of it, as he keeps the umbrella above Makoto, and cares little for his own clothes and frizzling hair. Half his body is already soaked.  
"So you're studying Astrophysics?" Makoto asks, looking straight ahead.  
"Yeah. I'm working on my thesis."  
"Sounds intimidating."  
"It really isn't. My department's just a bunch of geeks who like to stare at stars."  
Having him so near reminds Makoto of her walks home with Senpai. She represses a sigh, and wishes she had him by her side, instead of Menewa. It makes her feel ungrateful, but after all, she is still in love.  
She glances over at Menewa and realizes how much rain he's already absorbed.  
"You're drenched. You should come nearer."  
Makoto takes his arm, and timidly pulls him closer to her. She blushes, and can't understand why. Menewa looks at her, focuses on her touch. How warm and familiar it seems.  
But the feeling doesn't last. It is quickly forgotten, and both of them walk on in silence. They simply enjoy each other's company, until they finally reach the station.

Menewa takes a last look at those _lanē_ eyes. He strives to remember how he felt about them earlier, when he couldn't find another word to describe their colour. But the feeling's long gone. Makoto takes a step back and thanks him, says goodbye. Then he watches on as she slips away, and becomes a stranger once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Since people have been asking for a second part to Rain, I decided to add this chapter.  
**

* * *

He searches for stars in an unyielding sky. Out of stubbornness, or maybe because he just misses their glow. But Tokyo's just like New York. A sleepless city's no place for a stargazer. Menewa knows.

And yet, as he stops at an intersection, he can't hep but look up. Squint and peer at the sky above. At least the moon is visible. He gives a quick glance at the waning crescent, then resumes his quest for stars and constellations. Maybe if he looks hard enough, he'll see something, _anything_.

He becomes so absorbed, that he misses the green light and remains on his side of the street.

Menewa stands there, like a sturdy tree planted in the ground, and someone recognizes him from afar. His wavy locks, reaching down almost to his waist. His sheepskin jacket and imposing stature. His laid-back attitude, like he has not a single care in the world.

Makoto stops dead in her tracks, holds her breath. Squeezes the handles of her tote bag and hesitates.

_Is it really him?_

Then again, he's unmistakable. And not quite a total stranger. Two days ago, they shared an umbrella and a conversation. This gives her courage, so she walks over to Menewa, thinks of something clever to say. But all she can come up with is:  
"Hey. It's… you again."  
Startled, he turns around, and his heart kind of skips a beat. It's the girl with _lanē_ eyes. He'd almost forgotten how pretty she was.  
_Almost._  
"Oh, uhm. Hi there," he says, grinning. "Makoto, right?"  
"Yes," she answers with a blush. "You remembered my name."  
He nods.  
"But I'm afraid I can't recall yours," she continues. "I'm really sorry."  
"Don't be. Most people can't remember it after the first time they hear it. It's not the most common name around."  
"Wait, I do remember one thing: 'Great Warrior'."  
"That's right. You've got it. It's the English translation of my name. Which is Menewa."  
"Ah, yes, Menewa. I do apologize."  
"Like I said, it's no biggie. Most people can't remember it."  
"But you remembered mine. And you probably never heard it before either, not being from Japan."  
"I'm just really good with names. I talk to a lot of people on a daily basis, so I get a lot of practice."  
_It pays to remember a girl's name when you're flirting._  
"So what are you doing around here?" she asks, pushing back a lock of hair behind her ear.  
"Me? I'm just taking a walk. I enjoy being out around ten, eleven. Back in New York, I do it all the time. I like having the night sky directly above my head. I grew up watching the stars every evening, and I guess I don't like being stuck indoors after sundown."  
"I see."  
"What about you? What are you up to?"  
"Well, I just went out to get some last-minute groceries."  
"Like what?"  
"Just some milk and coffee filters. Forgot I ran out. I kind of want to make pancakes tomorrow morning."  
"Pancakes? That sounds awesome. Do you live nearby?"  
"I do, actually. This is my neighbourhood."  
"Is it?"  
"Yes. Is your hotel around here, too?"  
"Not really. It's actually much further away. I've been walking for a while. I somehow ended up here, without knowing where I was going. I think I'll have to use my phone's gps to find my way back. Earlier, I discovered an Irish pub. Had a nice beer there, as well as a chat with the owner. Who's got nothing to do with Ireland. He just likes the culture."  
"An Irish pub, huh?"  
"Yeah, at first, I was surprised. I mean, I didn't think there were Irish pubs in Japan. But then again, why shouldn't there be? I'm kind of an Irish pub nut. I've been to pretty much every single one in New York."  
"Really? There must be hundreds."  
"For Saint-Paddy's, my friends and I went to seven different places in a single night. It was crazy. Checked them all off my list. One of my favourite pubs is called the _Dead Poet_, where they read poetry. Sometimes even in Gaelic. But I don't understand a word of it."  
"What about Creek? Do you speak the language?"  
"Yeah, well enough. Not that many of us do. Usually, you learn from the elders. My grandparents wanted to pass down the language to me; they felt very strongly about it. I'm not as fluent as I could be, but I'm pretty good. Your English is excellent, though."  
"Aw, thanks. It must be because of all the British period dramas I watch."  
She smiles embarrassedly, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets, frowning slightly.  
"It's weird, isn't it?"  
"What is?"  
"That we met again. After that first time in the café."  
"It is."  
"If I hadn't walked for so long, I wouldn't have been here, at this intersection. And if I hadn't gotten distracted looking at the sky, I'd have crossed the street and you probably would've missed me."  
"Is that what you were doing? Staring at the sky?"  
"Looking for stars."  
"Did you find any?"  
"I might've," he replies, carefully upholding her gaze.  
"If I hadn't gone out for milk and coffee filters, I wouldn't have run into you," she says.  
"I won't pretend I think this is just a coincidence, Makoto. To tell you the truth, I'm amazed by our encounter. I see it as fate. I think there's meaning here."  
She blinks.  
"You're very direct."  
"Don't you feel the same way?"  
"I…"  
Makoto looks away, blushing again.  
"Maybe," she answers.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to creep you out. I guess I sound kind of intense."  
"Not at all. I think people would be happier if they spoke their mind more often. There wouldn't be so much heartbreak."  
_If only she'd been more open with Senpai._  
"I agree."  
"Do you want to go… sit somewhere? There's a park nearby, with some benches. I'd have recommended a café, but you mentioned wanting to have the night sky above your head."  
"Sure. That's be cool."  
"Then follow me," she answers, and they leave the intersection.

They walk side by side, and their hands occasionally touch. Makoto feel awkward at first, but Menewa doesn't seem to mind at all. It occurs to her that if he took her hand, she'd gladly let him hold it in his.  
_But she barely knows him._  
"How's that search of yours going? Did you and your friends find the person you were looking for in Tokyo?" she suddenly asks Menewa, in an attempt to chase away her own thoughts.  
"Nah. We haven't even started yet."  
"How come?"  
"Raffaele, one of my friends, woke up sick the day after I met you. He's this Italian brat with a frail constitution. He couldn't cope with the air conditioning on the plane and caught a cold. Now he's sniffling back at the hotel, complaining all the time. So we've been waiting for him to heal up."  
"Can't you start looking without him?"  
"No. This is something we need to do together. All four of us. It's a complicated story. Anyway, tomorrow, he should be alright."  
"Good."  
"But I haven't been idle, you know. I've made good use of my time these past couple of days. Yesterday, for example, I went down to the Tenku planetarium. Wanted to check it out, so I could tell the others at work about it. You see, I'm the assistant systems coordinator at Hayden Planetarium, in New York. Anyway, I guess I wanted to see what the competition's up to. I heard good things about the Tenku planetarium. And it didn't disappoint. It was really awesome. You ever been there?"  
"I haven't, actually."  
"You should pay it a visit sometime. It's got a Infinium S projector that delivers super sharp images. You can see over 306,000 stars. They even have a show with _aromatherapy_, of all things, and the lobby looks like a spaceship. Top notch stuff."  
"So you work at a planetarium."  
"Yeah, it's my student job. I'm aiming a bit higher after I finish my studies, but that's a long way off."  
"What exactly do you do over there?"  
"Well, I'm in charge of the shows, sometimes. I operate the computers. And I'm also a guide. I answer questions, give presentations to visitors. Stuff like that."  
"That sounds fun."  
"I really enjoy it."  
"Did any of your friends come with you to the Tenku planetarium yesterday?"  
"Nope. Like I said, Raffaele was sick, and Shen, this guy from Hong Kong, he just wasn't interested. And Arad had some emails to answer. He's a philosophy professor at the University of Istanbul, and the substitute he got for his class sent him a bunch of questions about the course and material. So he couldn't join me."  
Menewa runs his fingers through his hair, while Makoto walks on in silence.  
"What about you, Makoto? Are you feeling a bit better? About what happened with that guy you liked?"  
"I'm beginning to come to terms with it, but it's not easy seeing him every day."  
"Didn't you say you were gonna transfer to a different school?"  
"I will, but not before the semester's over."  
"Then you just gotta hang in there for now."  
Nodding, she swings her tote bag back and forth.  
"You look like a very strong person," he says. "I'm not too worried about you."  
Makoto gives a faint smile. He's a sweet talker, but an honest one. She can tell.

Now they're passing a flower shop, and Makoto can't help but gawk at the display window. She takes mental notes on the floral arrangements and sighs dreamily. Menewa notices.  
"You love flowers the way I love planetarium projectors, don't you?"  
"I do, but it's more than that. I have this dream."  
"What is it?"  
"I… I'd like to own a flower shop one day. I'd have lots of camellias and roses, and I could sell cupcakes, too."  
"I thought you wanted to become a karate master."  
She laughs.  
"Who says I can't do both?"  
"You certainly could."  
He admires her, and she pretends she can't see how he's staring. She just keeps walking, and soon leads him into the park.

White lanterns hang on a line along the tree alley. The gentle wind makes them sway as it rustles through the last autumn leaves. Intrigued, Makoto examines the lanterns, which are a pleasant surprise.  
"They usually put them up during the cherry blossom festival," she explains. "It's weird that they've got them on now."  
"It looks beautiful."  
"It does. Maybe there was some sort of special event here."  
"We're just lucky, you and I," Menewa says, pacing ahead, then walking backwards to keep Makoto in view.  
"I guess so."  
"I like the way the light hits your face," he tells her, casually.  
She doesn't answer. She wonders if she should return the compliment, but by the time she makes up her mind, the moment's gone. Menewa waits up for her, and they choose a bench.

Menewa stretches out his legs to cross them front of him, folds his arms. Makoto sits next to him, marvels in secret at the length of his body.  
"I wish we could see the stars from out here. I'd be able to impress you with my knowledge of constellations," Menewa informs her.  
"You know them all?"  
"Absolutely. When in doubt, I consult my star map. It's this neat application on my phone. It uses your location to show you what constellations and stars are above you. You just point it at the sky…"  
He pulls out his phone, sweeps his thumb across the screen. Then he holds it up towards the sky, slants sideways to show Makoto. His hair touches her shoulder. It carries the scent of starry nights and desert mesas.  
"…and it tells you where everything is."  
She sees a grid filled with stars bearing unusual names.  
"There are so many," she says.  
"And out here in the city, we can't even see 'em."  
"They're more visible outside of Tokyo."  
"Back in Oklahoma, I could see the Milky Way."  
"I've only ever seen pictures of it."  
"My people believed that the Milky Way was the Soul's Path. That it lead to the afterlife, and was created by Ibofanaga, the highest Creek deity."  
"Really?"  
"It was said that when a soul took the path of the Milky way, it had to watch out for a giant, heavenly eagle, waiting to devour it. Then eventually, the soul reached a deep river with a log bridge over it. The soul could only cross it if it had lead a virtuous life. Otherwise, it fell into the water and was eaten by a celestial alligator living in the river. And at the other end of the bridge, there was a dog who would let the soul pass, but only if it had never killed a dog."  
_Loyalty should never be betrayed._  
"I love the imagery. So vivid."  
"It was my favourite story when I was a kid. I think my grandfather told it to me, like, a zillion times. I never got tired of hearing it. I also liked the legend about how night and day were divided."  
"Tell me."  
"Really? You wanna hear it?"  
"Please, do tell me."  
She turns her head to meet his gaze, but he's staring at his boots.  
"Alright. So after the world was created, the animals held a meeting to decide how to divide night and day. Some wanted day to last all the time, while others wanted it to be night all around. Nokosi, the bear, voted for night, but Chew-thlock-chew, the ground squirrel, proposed that light and darkness be divided equally, just like the rings on a coon's tail. The animals liked the idea, and decided it was the way to go. But Nokosi wasn't too happy with the decision, so out of spite, he scratched Chew-thlock-chew's back, and that's why ground squirrels today have lines on their back."  
Menewa gives her a quick glance and a smile.  
"That's the cutest thing I've ever heard," Makoto says.  
"True story."  
"Thanks for sharing it with me," she replies a little bashfully.  
For some reason, she wants to lean against his shoulder, tell him all her secrets. Her heart is pounding in her chest.

Why does he make her feel this way?

It's not his cheesy compliments or charming stories. It's the way he speaks, the gestures he makes with his elegant hands. The shape of his mouth, and the sound of his voice.  
_Who is this man, sitting beside her?_

"Do you know…" he begins, staring blankly. "When I saw you at the café the other day… I mean, when I saw the colour of your eyes, I could only describe it by the Creek word _lanē_."  
"_Lanē?_"  
"It means 'green', but to me, it's a specific kind of green. A green that feels like home."  
_His ultramarine eyes are like the evening sky._  
"And I felt like I'd stared into them before," he continues. "I didn't know why that was."  
He finally turns to face her.  
"I was hoping maybe you could help me figure it out."  
"How?"

Menewa's hand finds Makoto's. He slips his fingers between hers, and she doesn't move. So he leans forward, respectfully draws closer to her. He feels her cheek, touches the back of her neck as his thumb strokes one of her rose earrings. Slowly, he tilts his head, barely brushes her nose with his lips, then closes his eyes.  
He kisses her mouth, delicately at first, then more and more decisively. Makoto relaxes, kisses him back, follows his pace. He lets go of her hand to hold her face, and she reaches for his throat.  
_He has known these lips before._  
Eyes still shut, Menewa pulls away momentarily. He exhales, whispers something in his language, his tone revealing an emotion half-way between sorrow and delight. Then he presses his lips to hers again, and Makoto inexplicably imagines the fragrant gardens of a white palace.

But he eventually draws back, and the gathering flowers disappear.  
"It… It was my first," she admits to him, still feverish.  
She's all flushed.  
"In this lifetime, perhaps," Menewa answers.  
"What… do you mean?"  
Her voice is faint and her spirit, troubled.  
"You and I have kissed before, Makoto."  
"How do you know?"  
"Didn't you feel it, too? How familiar, and natural, and _perfect_ it was? Like we've done it many times before."  
_Yes, it was perfection.  
It felt like home._  
"I did feel it," she answers.  
He simply stares at her.  
"Who are you, Menewa?"  
"I'm not entirely sure. Who are you, Makoto?"  
"I don't know anymore."  
He rises, places himself in front of her, and she takes his hand.  
"Stay," she says.  
"I'm sorry, Makoto."  
"What for?"  
"For stealing your first kiss."  
"You said it wasn't my first."  
"Your first kiss _here_, _now_… I… wanted to verify a theory. I just didn't suspect it was this accurate."  
"I'm not sure I understand what's going on."

Makoto stands up, and Menewa doesn't step back. He likes to have her close. He opens her hand with his, aligns his fingers to hers.  
"I should head back to the hotel before I lose my focus. The sooner my friends and I do what we set out to do, the sooner I'll be able to explain all of this."  
"What are you looking for, Menewa?"  
He smiles.  
"My memories."  
There is a pause.  
"I feel like we've met too soon, Makoto."  
_Or too late._  
"Will I ever see you again?" she asks.  
"I am sure of it."  
"When?"  
"I don't know."  
_Why must he go?_  
"How will we find each other? Won't you give me your phone number, or something?"  
"I don't think it's necessary."  
"Why?"

He moves away, the palm of his hand leaving hers. His vanishing touch is as soft and ethereal as the rain in a dream.  
"Because I know that you and I will meet again, Makoto."


End file.
